


The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot

by PepperRiley



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Jealousy, Oral Sex, Pining, Smut, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 17:16:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16202063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperRiley/pseuds/PepperRiley
Summary: Steve Harrington's insecurity leads him down a self-destructive path regarding his relationship.





	The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot

**The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot**

 

            Steve Harrington was many things. Not the least of which, including wickedly jealous and cripplingly insecure. You always found it strange that someone so likeable, handsome, and charming could possess such envy. Although, before the two of you had started dating, you remembered the infamous “Nancy ‘The Slut’ Wheeler” incident from junior year.

            Steve had never taken heartbreak well, but he’d learned to take it with a touch more grace by the time Nancy had broken up with him last semester. Though, it didn’t stop him from carrying his broken heart like a cross for the rest of the year.

            Then he found you.

            The last semester of your high school career had started in January and Steve waltzed into third period history, looking remarkably handsome in a dark grey sweater and tight, pale denim, ready to kick off 1985 with a new outlook. He wasn’t King anymore, he wasn’t Nancy’s boyfriend anymore, and he wasn’t likely getting into college. So, he thought he’d relax, enjoy what was left of high school, and focus on himself.

            His plan backfired immediately when he took a seat in the desk beside yours and all he could focus on was you as you failed to take notice of how good he looked.

            You hadn’t, but you weren’t about to stop your conversation with Tina, who had swerved in her desk to lean over yours and fill you in on every ounce of Christmas holiday drama, to let your eyes roam over Steve’s taut bod.

            You and Steve hadn’t been close, but you’d always been pleasant. You’d laughed over drinks at parties and you’d shared classes before, but both of you had spent the last year in relationships with other people.

            Over Christmas you’d been unceremoniously dumped, which wasn’t your favourite way to spend the holiday, but Matthew Halloran was a terrible boyfriend and your entire demeanour lightened after he’d left. Steve noticed. You looked happier, once again lighting up the room with your inviting glow that had previously been dimmed by your sour relationship.

            Steve had always found you attractive, but now your smile met your eyes and your laughter was so big that he couldn’t ignore the tug in his chest and the twitch in his jeans looking at you. As he slid into the seat next to yours, he heard you rolling about a joke Tina told you. He found himself trying to mask a chuckle coaxed by your contagious laughter, but both you and Tina noticed and turned to him.

            “What’s so funny, Harrington?” you teased.

            He felt embarrassed and tried to cover his tracks. “I was thinking about a movie I saw.”

            “Oh, yeah? Which one?” you challenged, nibbling on the end of your pen, urging his thoughts to teeter on demonic as he wished to be the blessed nestled between your pillowy lips.

            “You haven’t heard of it.” The cocky grin he’d been so famous for finally returned and he caught the tip of his tongue between his teeth as he smiled at you. He was so goddamn cute and he knew it.

            “Maybe you should show me sometime, then.” You hadn’t even intended to flirt, but since junior high, you’d always harboured a harmless little crush on Steve and now that Matthew was history, you couldn’t help but bat your lashes in his direction.

            He smiled, excited by your brazenness and confident to reel you in. “Yeah, maybe I should. You free on Friday night?”

            Tina watched the two of you with rapt attention. Steve getting dumped at her party was the hottest gossip of last semester. You and Steve setting up a date was the juiciest news of your first day back and she had a front row seat. She was in heaven, practically vibrating with excitement.

            “Not anymore.” You grabbed his hand, turning it palm up. You pulled the cap off of your pen with your teeth and scrawled your phone number on his hand. “Call me on Thursday to remind me.”

            “As if you’d forget.” He winked. Your stomach turned to jelly. You already knew you wouldn’t see a second of this bullshit movie.

 

            Steve’s parents had left that Friday afternoon on a business trip, which meant the two of you had the place to yourselves that evening.

            You found yourself on the living room couch as Steve made popcorn in the kitchen. You wondered at his big, lonely house while you listened to him shuffle around the next room. It bothered you to find the walls painted with professional portraits that lacked sincere smiles. Everything was neat and sterile, so different from the boy that constantly buzzed with nervous energy in class. Steve was always tapping his pen, bouncing his leg, or nibbling his lip. He made a show of seeming calm and collected, but you could tell he was a bit of a mess and that’s the Steve you wanted to know. You loved getting your hands dirty.

            “Need any help?” you called to him.

            “Sure, I think I’m burning the shit out of this,” he admitted.  
            You came up behind him to inspect the pot on the stove, which was smoking. “You think?” You bumped him out of the way with your hip and moved the pot from the red hot element, shaking your head.   
            You noticed the unopened bottle of oil. Snatching it up, you turned to him, completely agog that he’d failed to use one of two ingredients. “Did you forget this?”

            “Whoops!” He laughed, running a hand through his hair.

            You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, whoops.”

            He took the oil from your hand and reached around you to set it on the counter. His body had pressed up against yours and he looked down at you. “No matter, there was no movie anyway.” He searched your face for a reaction to his cheeky confession, hoping it would hold promise.

            “I knew it.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

            “I’m sure we can find something else to do,” he said, nibbling his bottom lip, but failing to contain his keen grin.

            “Your big idea was to try and burn the house down so I’d make out with you?” You tried to play it cool, but his hips were tight against yours and you could feel the heat radiating off of his body.

            “Is it going to work?” He brought a hand to your face, tentatively ghosting your lips with his thumb, and you responded by gripping at his t-shirt and pulling him closer.

            “I guess so,” you peeped, looking into his dark eyes, noticing the mischief behind them.

            “Then yeah,” he whispered, dropping his mouth to yours, fulfilling the want you’d secretly carried since you were twelve years old. His lips were soft, but his kiss was aggressive, causing you to whimper as you raked your fingers through his luscious hair. Every girl had talked about how much they wanted to tug it or lace it around their fingers and you had to say, it was so choice. You pulled rough enough that he followed your hand back as he moaned, exposing his vulnerable throat to your tempted mouth.

            You nipped at his neck, feeling his quickening pulse thudding heavy under your gnashing teeth. He gripped into your sides as he revelled in the shivers your bite triggered all over his body. You intended to etch a bruise into his skin; you wanted everyone to know Steve Harrington had been branded as yours. Your lips and teeth coupled to splash the wines and crimsons over the canvas of your prey and his hips collided with yours, crashing you hard up against the counter while he grinded himself against you. You released his neck, blowing softly on the salvia glistening against his skin. You felt his erection tighten against his jeans, responding to the cool sensation goose bumping his flesh.

            He caught your bottom lip between his own and sucked on it playfully, distracting you from his tricksy hands sliding under your t-shirt and gliding up your stomach, snaking their way to your chest. You fluttered under his touch as you clutched his hips and met his thrusts. He cupped your breasts and brushed his thumbs over your pert nipples, feeling their perkiness through the fabric of your bra. He moved to unclasp you, aching to feel the fullness of your tits in his palms and you pulled your shirt off, granting him a glorious view of your full chest.

            “Wow,” he whispered, taking a moment to appreciate your body before his hands gripped your waist and he picked you up, sitting you on the counter, pushing himself between your knees. You welcomed him by wrapping your legs around his hips.

            He palmed your left breast, squeezing your softness, while he took the other in his mouth, suckling on your firm nipple, letting his tongue flick against it, enjoying the peak under his soft mouth. You clawed your way through his hair while he savoured your beautiful breasts before he rubbed his face across your chest, nipping, sucking, and kissing his way back to your lonely lips. His kisses were slow and hopeful, while his hands were quick to misbehave as he slid his palm over your jeans and cupped your heat, tentatively rubbing you. You bucked against the friction of his expectant palm and hoped those fingers would soon be sliding into your syrupy wetness.

            You knew things were happening too fast, but your innocent childhood crush had been replaced by teenage hormones and Steve’s convincing glances, kisses, and pets told you that waiting was for suckers.

            He nibbled his way back to your throat to gift you a brand, painting your soft skin with a fading reminder that he wanted you all to himself. His teeth weren’t nearly as kind as his eyes and he hoped your own would fall on the magenta splash and you’d think of everywhere he’d been on your body.

            The urgency of your desire demanded you have Steve as soon as possible and you tore at his shirt. He ripped it off and hastily unbuttoned your jeans, stepping back to tug them off and then pausing to kick off his own. Your eyes fell on his ready girth, ticking in anticipation. Steve was so hard that the tight skin of his erection glistened and you could make out every vein of his thick cock. He was even bigger than you’d imagined and you clenched your thighs at the prospect of taking him to the hilt. Matthew would never matter again after tonight.

            Steve dropped to his knees and pulled you to the edge of the counter, catching your plump lips against his hungry mouth. He left a gentle kiss against you before using the tip of his nose to delve between your folds and tease your taut clit, ghosting it ever so slightly while introducing the tip of his tongue to your entrance. He let out a small laugh and you just about died wondering what could be so funny about being between your legs and you moved to close them, squirming away.

            He caught your knees, forcing you to stay blossomed, and he looked up at you curiously.

            “Why are you laughing?” you whispered, feeling ashamed.

            “Oh, shit, because I was really excited about how wet you are.” He slid his hands around your ass and pulled you back to the edge of the counter. “I didn’t mean to make you nervous. Let me make it up to you.” He spoke the last half of his sentence against your heat and you let yourself forget about your embarrassment as your head rested against the cupboard behind you and your fingers gripped into the back of his neck.

            His tongue slipped inside as your heels dug into his back, trying to urge him deeper. He rubbed his nose in tight circles around your clit while he lapped your sweetness, savouring every drop.

            Steve was a generous lover and he prided himself on how hard he could make a girl cum. By any means necessary, he’d have her howling his name and begging him not to stop. Tonight he hoped to fuck you so good you’d scream for mercy and he wouldn’t grant it. This was your first date, after all and he wanted to make a good impression or at least a lasting one. You’d walk funny all weekend.

            He licked his way back to your clit, giving his fingers the opportunity to feel your delicate walls. His fingers curled into your g-spot, beckoning your orgasm with a come-hither motion. You responded by sliding a hand over your mouth to stifle your piercing chirps and gasps.

            While his fingers continued to press into your gooey centre, he lifted his head and said, “Move your hand. I wanna hear my goddamn name next.”

            Holy shit, Harrington meant business.

            You shook your head _no_ , wondering what response your refusal would elicit. He smirked, sliding his fingers out of you as he stood. He slowly sucked the taste of you from his fingertips, saying nothing as you watched him. His calmness was eerie. “Mmm, you’re sweeter than I imagined,” he finally said, running his tongue along his bottom lip, “and I’ve lost count how many times I’ve thought about it.”

            He brought a hand to your waist as he stepped between your knees and he pulled you closer, allowing his erection to press against your ready heat. He grabbed your wrist and slammed your hand above your head, pinning you in place. The back of your hand stung, but the sensation excited you.

            “Now, I said I wanna hear my goddamn name,” he whispered, his face up against yours, the scent of you on his breath. He took his cock in his hand and messed you with the pre-cum budding on his tip, small potatoes compared to what was to come, he wanted to paint your walls, filling you until you overflowed.

            Your breathing was shallow and you were writhing in anticipation, ready to take the biggest lover you’d ever experienced, but nothing could have prepared you for the first thrust. You gasped, your eyes wide in surprise, as without warning Steve harshly pushed himself inside. All the way inside.

            “Oh my God,” you peeped, already shaking.

            “That’s not my name, baby, but I’ll take the compliment,” his grin was devilish as he began to pump into you, encouraging your walls to accommodate him with every new thrust.

            All you could do was pant through his unforgiving pace, as your release gathered in your stomach like an incoming storm.

            He brought his fingers to your lips, inviting you to suck on them. You explored his fingertips, finding the taste of yourself still lingering. Once they were wet, he withdrew his hand and used his fingers to lavish your clit, coaxing your orgasm in two directions.

            He felt you trembling as his pace slowed, meeting your depth with a hiccup in his hips. “I want to see you cum,” he managed between heavy breaths.

            “You will,” you promised, trying to articulate through your desperate moans.

            “I told you to say my name.” He circled your throat, just tight enough that you were surprised he had it in him, and he pressed your head back against the cupboard door. “It better be the next thing past your lips.” He leaned in and left a tiny kiss against your quivering mouth.

            The tip of his cock slid against your pleasure point perfectly while the harsh pressure of his fingers rubbing expertly against your clit mauled your orgasm from promise to fucking certainty.

            Thunder rolled through your core and your release lit up your nerve endings like sheet lightning, shooting from your scalp to your toes. You shook, arching into Steve’s chest, slick with sweat, as you gripped the wrist that held your throat and clawed your way down his other arm.

            “ _Steve_ -“ slipped past your lips in a strangled cry. He’d fucked it out of you and he rewarded you by releasing your airway. “Steve,” you repeated, inhaling sharply.

            You barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth crashed against yours once again and he whimpered against your lips. Your orgasm had you clenching around his ready cock and he gripped you close, leaving an imprinting bruise at your hips, as your pulsating walls milked his cock. You could feel his release gush against your cervix and you pulled him deeper, encouraging him to spill as much as possible.

            Steve yo-yoed from commanding to vulnerable as he nuzzled into your neck and gasped through his quaking orgasm, finally whispering your name against your skin.

            Your hand drifted into the sweat-matted hair at the nape of his neck and he lifted his head, smiling triumphantly, eyes soft. He pressed his forehead against yours as your cupped his face with your other hand, both of you trying to catch your breath. “Holy shit, Harrington.”

            He smiled around his gasps. “Tell me about it.”

            You giggled as he pressed a kiss to your lips. “You know what they say about fucking on the first date,” you whispered.

            “What’s that?” He brushed his nose against yours, enjoying the closeness.

            “Don’t.” You curled a tendril of his hair around your fingers. You were pleased to have him wrapped up in you, but you feared you’d given him everything much too quickly and this would be the last time Steve Harrington made you tremble. “You’ll never call me again.”

            He found your confession so ridiculous that he laughed right in your face. “Don’t be an idiot, you’re going to get so sick of me you’re gonna wish you kept these sweet little legs shut.” He squeezed your thighs as his lips lightly brushed yours. He slid his tongue along your teeth, encouraging you to open your mouth and kiss him deep. You eagerly complied and the two of you poured your battle worn hearts into one another, forgetting about Matthew, letting go of Nancy.

            You had no idea just how completely Steve was going to overwhelm you as you pulled each other into the deep end.

  
*  
            After the night you and Steve spent on his kitchen counter watching none of the movie he’d never rented, you were inseparable. He was your shadow, your puppy-dog, your everything. Steve craved affection, he ached for touch, and he was desperate to be enough for somebody, not too much. But that was exactly who Steve Harrington was when he was in love. He was too much and over compensated with even more. Which was why he snuck into your basement bedroom nearly every night to love and fuck you until morning. You were exhausted, but love does that sometimes.

            He was nervous to find himself the silver medal ever again and no matter how hard he tried to hide it, every time his hand found your lower back when you talked to someone else, you could feel his insecurity.

            You remembered last week, when you had to give Jonathan Byers back a book he’d lent you last semester and how quickly Steve’s tail found its home between his legs. He’d been leaning beside your locker, beaming at you, while you discussed your plans for the weekend, when Jonathan came up to you. You turned your attention to him and Steve kicked off from the lockers, immediately circling your waist from behind and resting his head on your shoulder, making sure he could stare Jonathan down. It wasn’t threatening, but it wasn’t as kind as he’d hoped.

            “Sorry I didn’t get it back to you sooner,” you said, handing the book over, squirming under the kisses Steve was peppering against your neck.

            He looked pathetic and obvious and you ached for him. Last semester had really done a number on his heart. Not to mention the abandonment he would never admit he felt at the hands of his absent parents he’d never impress. You curled your hand in his hair to acknowledge and reassure him while you and Jonathan finished your short conversation.

            “Don’t worry about, thanks!” Jonathan hurried down the hall, not bothering to make small talk with Steve.

            As Jonathan disappeared from view, Steve lifted his head and said, “So Saturday, my place, yeah?” as if nothing had even happened. You let him hang onto what was left of his pride and nodded.

            “Sounds perfect.”

            “Mmmm,” he hummed contentedly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before wandering off to class.

            You watched him go, hoping he’d find the confidence to let himself believe you adored him.   
            That was a task would prove near impossible when your math teacher offered your tutoring services to Billy Hargrove the following month.

            _Fuck_ you thought as you took a seat beside Billy in the library after school, having to cancel a date with Steve to be here.

            Billy knew you were Harrington’s girl, everybody did, but there was no one else that could make Steve sweat more profusely than Billy, which was why you didn’t tell him where you were.

            “Surprised you found the time to stop sucking face with Harrington to show up,” Billy chuckled, shifting in his seat.

            “Let’s just get this over with. Did you do any of the review sheets?”

            “No, was I supposed to?”

            You scoffed, already tired of his shit. You hated Billy. You hated him last semester when you saw his handiwork twisted into Steve’s handsome face and you hated him more now knowing that Steve’s cuts had faded, but Billy’s impact never had.

            “I’m joking, princess, don’t be uptight,” he laughed as he produced the worksheets from his book bag that was resting under the table.

            “I really don’t want to be helping you, Billy, so don’t push it.” You had a death grip on your pencil and venom in your voice.

            “I can tell Mrs. Harris that you didn’t want the extra credit, if you’d like,” Billy said coolly.

            “I said I’d help, so again, let’s get this over with.”

            He smiled over his victory and grabbed the leg of your chair, pulling you closer.

            Billy attempted small talk a couple of times to no avail, but you got through your first study session as painlessly as possible.

            “You know you’re out of Harrington’s league, yeah?” he said, as you were shoving your work into your backpack.

            “That’s subjective,” was the best you could manage without throwing a book at his head.

            “Naw, you’ll see. He’s a fuckin’ mess and you’ll leave just like Nancy did.” Billy winked, leaving you to seethe in silence.

 

            The following Friday, Billy met you at your locker, handing you the work he’d completed over the week. “Hey, can you look at these this weekend?” there was a plea in his voice. Billy really didn’t want to repeat the eleventh grade and you were his only hope.

            “Sure,” you agreed, pleased to see every question had been attempted.

            “Thanks,” he said sincerely and he smiled warmly.

            You didn’t hear Steve come up behind you, but you felt a pair of familiar hands grip your waist and you were spun from your conversation, your lips caught in a possessive kiss before you even had time to think.

            “Steve-“ you mumbled against your aggressor’s kiss.

            He responded by pushing you up against the lockers and moving his hands to your face.

            Billy rolled his eyes and chuckled at Steve’s valiant attempt to play it cool. Billy leaned over, nearly sticking his face between the two of you and said, “I’ll catch you when you come up for air, princess. Thanks again.”

            With that he left and you pushed Steve off of you, finally cracking from his smothering jealousy. “Goddammit, Steve,” you said with a sigh.

            He was already frowning. “Why is Billy going to catch you later?”

            “He needed some help with his homework.” You weren’t going to suffer Steve the details because he’d spiral, so you focused your attention on your locker combination.

            “Why did he ask you?” Steve tried to keep his tone as even as possible, but there was a shrillness he couldn’t mask.

            “Because I’m good at math.”

            “You’re not even in the same grade.”

            “Nothing gets past you, babe.” You turned to find your joke had done everything except lighten the mood. You sighed and reached for his dour face, he relented under your touch, nestling his cheek against your palm, and he let it go.

            “You wanna catch a movie tomorrow night?” He brushed your hair behind your ear, leaving his fears behind and finding his safe place in your eyes.

            “Absolutely.” You leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose.

            He’d been placated and you were happy to see his smile return.

 

            Two weeks passed and you were getting ready for a Saturday night date. Steve was due to pick you up in half an hour to take you to a movie, so you slipped on a sundress and a denim jacket, thinking yourself rather cute.

            Your parents had left for the evening so you hurried to the knock on the door, expecting to see your boyfriend. Instead you found Billy smiling at you.

            “Billy,” you started, taken aback to find him here.

            “Hey,” he stepped inside, “you look nice.”

            “I have a date.”

            “I won’t be long. I just wanted to stop by and say thanks for helping me and inconvenience you further by dropping off more of my homework. Don’t rush or anything, but I’m so close to passing this fuckin’ class.” He handed you a few more worksheets. “I know you don’t want to be stuck with me, but I really appreciate it.”

            You gave him a half-hearted smile, he really had been putting in the work and while he wasn’t your favourite person, you were glad to see him work at something other than his reputation. “I’ll get to this tomorrow,” you offered.

            He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and backed up as you swiped at him. “You’re an angel. Say hi to your idiot boyfriend for me.”

            He moved to leave and you grabbed his wrist, stopping him. “Wait, I have something for you.”

            Steve turned up your block and felt the world give out from under him as his eyes fell on Billy’s Camaro parked in your driveway. His head was swimming as every inadequacy he ever feared about himself pulled him deeper.

            You hurried back to the front entrance and handed Billy a small stack of papers. “I found my reviews from last year, you should look at them.”

            Billy was overwhelmed with gratitude and he picked you up in a hug, stumbling back onto your front step from the enthusiasm. Steve watched the both of you topple onto the front step and Billy set you down before hurrying to his Camaro and roaring away.

            As Billy’s taillights faded into the distance so did the hope in Steve’s eyes. He pulled a u-turn and headed back the way he came, taking his broken heart home.

            Steve didn’t show up on time and you started to worry, he was never late. Come to think of it, he was usually early. You hurried to the phone and dialled his number.

            He never answered. Your suspicions grew and you couldn’t sit with your heartache any longer as you snatched your car keys from the hook by the front door and raced to your boyfriend’s house.

            The lights were on and his car was the lone car in the driveway, but he didn’t answer the bell. You rung it again. Then again. And again. And again.

            Finally he whipped open the door, he looked like a mess. He’d raked his hands through his hair until it was wild, his eyes were bloodshot from furious tears, and his expression was hateful. You reached for him but his back was already to you, stomping back into the house, you cautiously followed behind.

            “Steve,” you attempted, hurrying up the stairs behind him.

            “Why are you here?” he snapped as the two of you entered his bedroom.

            “Because you didn’t show up for our date.” You moved to him, circling his waist and he wiggled out of your grip. “What’s wrong?” you pleaded, his brush off stinging like frostbite.

            “I figured you had your hands full with Billy,” you were surprised you could understand him considering how fiercely he gritted his teeth.

            Realization washed over you, he had shown up early and misinterpreted everything.

_Fuck!_

_Fuck, fuck, fucking, fuck!_

“Oh, Steve,” you cooed, wanting to deescalate the breakdown already in progress, “I’m just tutoring Billy in math, he stopped by to drop off his homework.” You smiled weakly, taking a step towards him as delicately as one might approach a frightened wild animal.

            “Bullshit,” he hissed, turning his least favourite word into ammunition. “I saw him with his hands all over you!”

            You reached for his face and he batted your hand away, shoving your heart along with it. Steve had never backed away from your affection before and it felt like a slap in the face.

            “Steve,” you said softly, doing your damndest not to cry, “please don’t be like this.”

            “You need to leave.” He wiped a treacherous tear from his cheek.

            “I can’t believe you think I’d lie to you,” your voice wavered as you took a step closer, reaching for his chest. Your fingertips lightly grazed his body before he caught your hand and pushed you away once again.

            Steve was no longer quick to trust. He gave Nancy the benefit of the doubt only to have it monumentally blow up in his face and he couldn’t make that mistake again.

            His heart was tearing itself to pieces as he looked at you, his betrayer. He’d handed you his shattered heart after he was sure he could never love again and you’d mended it. You’d cemented yourself in the cracks and gifted it back to him better than before. He’d never loved anybody so deeply and now you’d lied to him. You might as well have taken a hammer to it yourself.

            “Get out,” he hissed, shaking with fury. Jonathan was one thing, but Billy was his worst fucking nightmare realized.

            “Just listen to me,” you pleaded, finally letting the tears trickle over the dam, staining you quivering lips.

            “I don’t listen to lying sluts.” It was the most hurtful thing he’d ever said and it hit you in the gut, knocking the wind out of you. You were sure he’d outgrown this, he was better than this, but right now he sounded like a cruel, petulant child.

            A sob caught in your throat as you reconsidered every tender feeling you’d ever had toward your once adoring boyfriend. This couldn’t be how he felt. He would never have said that to you. He loved you. You were going to go to prom, runaway to college, and get married someday. You and your Steve. The love of your life.

            Your sadness quickly twisted to anger when he moved to the bedroom door and motioned for you to leave.       

            You closed the space, burning to wipe that fucking look of off his face, and as you wound up to swing Steve caught your wrist and twisted it behind your back, bringing you flush against his tight body. “Rethink that move.” His venom sent heat shooting up your spine, lashing at your neck and cheeks. You were flush with hatred, the red painted all over your glowering face.

            “Fuck you,” you spat, shaking with wrath and twisting to unmake him. You wanted him to suffer for his pathetic jealousy.

            “Like Billy has?” he growled, perfectly aware of how deep his words cut into you, he aimed to make you bleed for your betrayal.

            You swiftly raked your free hand into his hair and pulled his head back hard, ripping his damning expression away from your furious eyes. He instinctually released your wrist and moved to his scalp, tearing your hand from his tresses. You let go and both of you took a step back, really seeing each other for the first time since this fight began. You both hated what you saw. The room filled with your hateful, heavy breathing and Steve spiralled, he was past the point of rescue and he unravelled magnificently.

            In an instant he swept his arm across his dresser, sending all of his photos and trophies to the floor. He was wild and unhinged and you were scared to stay, but even more afraid to leave.

            The both of you took in the mess of shattered glass and busted metal peppering his carpet. His breathing shifted from heavy to panicked as his demons began to claw their way from his ribcage to his throat. He panted, his chest thick with grief and you moved to him, disgusted with yourself for offering him comfort amidst his cruel tantrum. He collapsed against you, hating you and needing you. You couldn’t bear his weight as he hung off of you and you guided him to his knees, moving to the floor with him.

            He engulfed you in his arms, holding you tight to his chest. You could feel his maddening heartbeat against your cheek as he balled your t-shirt in his hands and buried his face in your hair. His breathing never slowed, but he managed to continue his tirade against you. “I can’t forgive you.”

            You wanted to proceed cautiously, but his accusations and acerbic remarks had exhausted your patience and your tenderness. “I didn’t do anything and I’m not seeking your forgiveness. You’re a fucking child.”

            He gripped your upper arms and held you at arm’s length, searching your face for an indication you’d apologize or admit you’d cheated on him. There was no reality where he could accept he was at fault. He was seventeen and stupid all over again. He was spray-painting horrors about you all over his heart and he was committed to believing them. “And you’re a goddamn liar. You promised me you wouldn’t break my heart. You said you wouldn’t and you fucking did!”

            You wriggled out of his grip and stood. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry so you steeled yourself and hurried out of his bedroom, slamming the door with such force the walls quaked. You left him in ruins and he remained on his knees, weeping into his hands.

           

            You found no comfort wrapped up in your blankets as you sobbed into your pillow. You looked to your window, aching for the Steve that would clumsily topple into your room every night and fall asleep tracing your face with his fingertips. The boy that would sneak in and kiss you until you were both too exhausted to keep your eyes open. The brazen fool that would slip under your covers and between your thighs while your parents slept upstairs, none the wiser that your mischievous boyfriend was making your toes curl and urging your nightly prayers to topple past your lips as your back arched and you called to God.

            Your relationship with Steve was officially dissolved and you wanted to die. You loved him as big as the moon and you’d never expected your once prince charming would turn into king asshole and eat your heart. You wanted him so bad you were afraid you were going to break in two, but you loved yourself enough not to forgive his maliciousness. You’d have to hold yourself tonight while you begged for the morning sun to creep above the horizon and make everything that had occurred this evening untrue.

            It didn’t and your heart ached more than ever.

            You stumbled to the bathroom to get ready for the day and caught a glimpse of your unforgiving reflection. You hadn’t slept a wink as evident from the dark rings under your eyes, which was coupled with puffiness from crying. Your throat was hoarse as you sighed and the cold water you splashed on your face helped nothing.

            At least you looked as bad as you felt, you thought as you left for school, dreading having to look at the boy that broke you.

            The world granted you sliver of mercy when your eyes fell on Steve’s empty seat, sparing you the agonizing task of facing him.

            After class you slunk into the study room Billy had reserved and you dropped heavy into your seat, avoiding his eye and hurrying to get your books out of your bag.

            Billy frowned as he took in your tired, pale face. “What’s the matter?”

            “Nothing, did you actually do your homework?” you snapped, loathing him, hating that he was the reason Steve lost his mind, even though it wasn’t Billy who deserved the burden of Steve’s dive into the deep end.

            “Yeah, yeah. Of course.” Billy was taken aback with your tone and it caught him off guard.

            “Good,” you huffed, still refusing to meet his eye.

            He exhaled and shook his head, wanting none of this, but unable to shake the feeling this was why Steve hadn’t shown today. “Harrington fuck up?”

            You whipped your head up to meet Billy’s uncharacteristically soft expression. Even if he wasn’t offering, his softness gave you permission to break down and you started to cry. Panic washed over Billy as he wrestled with the uncertainty of what to do. He settled on reaching his hand across the table, palm up, inviting you to take it if you needed. You’d been an ally and a friend while he struggled through his schoolwork and he hated to see you hurting.

            You slid your hand in his and gripped it tight, squeezing your pain into his warm touch. “St-Steve and I broke up.”

            He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. “Harrington is a fucking moron. You know that, right?”

            You laughed pathetically, he might have been a moron, but your foolish heart would have followed him into hell. “Yeah, well. I’m the idiot that fell in love with him.”

            “I thought he was crazy about you, I’m sorry,” Billy offered, clasping his other hand over yours.

            “He thinks we slept together,” you admitted, now feeling guilty that Billy’s hands were holding your own and you slipped yours from his grip. He knew why you withdrew your touch and he wanted to beat Harrington’s ass for being so stupid.

            Billy scoffed, “Well, he’s an asshole for making you cry.”

            “He’s an asshole for a lot of reasons,” you said, grimly.

            Billy took mercy on your shipwrecked heart and stood. “We’re not going to study today. You look like you need sleep, so come on, I’ll give you a lift home.”

           

            After Billy dropped you off he roared up Steve’s driveway. Steve was still in bed. As usual his parents were out of town so he didn’t have to come up with an excuse for skipping class today to wallow in his tortured misery.

            He was stirred from his fitful rest by heavy pounding on the front door. “Go away,” he whispered to himself, praying whoever it was would leave him to his self-imposed exile.

            The pounding continued, thumping heavier than before. “Fuck sake,” Steve sighed, pulling himself out of bed and hurrying past the remains of his meltdown he hadn’t bothered to clean up.

            He swung open the double doors to find Billy seething at him. Steve’s heart popped at the sight of his rival having the audacity to darken his doorstep. “Come to pour salt in my wounds?” Steve growled, digging half moons into the tender flesh of his palms with his fingernails, he didn’t stop clenching until he drew blood. It spilled over his knuckles and dripped onto the step, but the pain didn’t touch the agony in his chest.

            “Come to tell you that you’re a fucking idiot. I didn’t sleep with your girlfriend and she cried about you all goddamn day.”

            Steve scoffed, lightly shaking his head, his battered ego still refusing to crumble and shoulder the blame. “Bullshit.”

            “Are you that goddamn insecure, man? Look, I’d love to nail your girlfriend, but she’s in love with you. For some reason she thinks you’re good enough for her, but I just see a pathetic asshole that can’t treat her right.”

            Steve shook with fury, but there was nothing to be said, he was so completely in the wrong and Billy was throwing him a lifeline.

            “Get your shit together.” Billy gave him an aggressive shot in the shoulder, sending Steve stumbling back on his heel. Billy turned, trotted down the steps, and climbed back in his Camaro, speeding away before Steve had a chance to unravel any further.

            Steve watched him roar away and was left with the realization that he’d let Billy convince him of your innocence instead of taking you at your word. There was a very real, very terrifying possibility that no matter how deeply sorry he was or how many times he apologized, he couldn’t undo what he’d said to you in anger. He dragged himself back upstairs, his self-loathing leading the way.

            He knelt among the debris of his raze and picked up the shards of broken glass along with his splintered heart as he took the time to admire a photoset of the two of you from your fifth date.

            You’d crept into a photo booth and Steve couldn’t keep his hands off of you. In the first two photographs, Steve’s lips were all over your neck and cheeks as you smiled into the camera. The third was his mouth at your ear, whispering ‘I love you’ for the very first time. The last was the two of you locked in a promising kiss.

            He traced your face in the photographs and prayed he could make it right.

 

            You’d disappeared under your covers for an afternoon nap and you’d finally drifted off into a restless sleep, when you heard a tapping at your window. You didn’t have to look to know it was Steve, so you didn’t. You refused to roll over, earning an increase in his nervous drumming. You glanced over your shoulder, shooting an angry look at the frazzled mess on the other side of the pane. “I’m sorry, please let me in,” his words were muffled by the glass, but you’d heard him just fine. You dropped your head back onto your pillow with a huff and let him twist on the lawn.

            “Baby, please, just give me one minute,” he begged, trying to push at peeling wooden frame.

            He was going to break your goddamn window if you didn’t give in and you hated him more than ever. Classic Steve Harrington, pouting, pushing, and pleading until he got his way. It had worked for him nearly his entire life and for the first time you understood why Nancy Wheeler never loved him back. She’d been smart to save herself from his never-ending selfishness. You tore out of bed and pulled the pane from the window, he smiled weakly as he slid into your room, knowing he wasn’t welcome.

            His smile faltered taking in your raw cheeks and tired eyes, he’d hurt you so badly. “Hi,” he whispered, realizing he didn’t have an apology prepared. He reached for you and you stepped back, resting the windowpane against your dresser.

            “You’re not welcome here anymore, Steve,” you said, coolly.

            He wasn’t sure what to do with himself as he stood awkwardly by your bed, holding himself, and nibbling at his lip. His hair was deflated and hung in a mess around his face, covering one of his eyes. As he released his lip you could see the red streaks from where he’d chewed the skin away. Every part of you screamed to hold him, but your dignity wrestled you into submission. He didn’t deserve absolution just because your filthy traitor of a heart loved him so goddamn much it crippled you.

            “I know,” he started, shuffling nervously towards you, watching you stiffen the closer he crept. “I just wanted to tell you I’m so fucking sorry.”

            “What for?” You needed him to say it. You needed him to accept responsibility for his undoing. He was the reason he wasn’t holding you right now, it was his fault that he wasn’t kissing you, the only one to blame for not being nestled between your thighs and panting into your desperate mouth.

            “For ruining everything. I fucked up so bad and I know that you might not forgive me but I’m begging you for a chance to make it right.”

            “No.”

            He’d expected it, but it wasn’t prepared for it and let himself fall to his knees. He didn’t give a damn how pathetic he looked and he tugged at your pant leg, before circling your legs and pulling you into his trembling grip. He clung tight to your waist like you were the only thing keeping him afloat as he drowned in his sorrow. He pressed his face to your stomach, leaving kisses against the fabric of your shirt, not ready to let you slip away. “Please,” he whispered.

            Your hands swept his hair from his face as you looked down at his pleading eyes. “I can’t do this anymore, Steve. I can’t keep telling you I love you until you believe it because you never will. You’re too broken.”

            “I know.” He tugged on the hem of your shirt until you met him on the floor. He cupped your face, pressing his forehead against yours, much like your first night together. “I’m a fucking idiot and I don’t deserve another shot, but I am begging you for it. But, um, if you tell me to leave, I will. I promise. I’ll leave and I’ll miss you and I’ll love you, but I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want.”

            Steve was the furthest thing from a safe bet because he always took himself out of the game before the winning shot. He was a raw nerve that had lost the ability to self-soothe. He just needed someone to tell him he was enough. But you had. You’d told him and told him and fucking told him, but he’d burned so hot that the two of you were kneeling in the ashes of your relationship.

            “Why can’t you believe me when I tell you you’re good enough?” you whispered.

            “Because you’re the first person that’s ever told me,” he admitted, no longer able to hide behind the false throne he’d once adorned.

            “That’s not true.”

            “It is. I was popular, but I was never good and I was so scared that I wasn’t good enough for you that I ruined it.” You watched the tear run down his cheek before he pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for as long as possible. “I’m sorry.”

            You pulled back and studied his face, he really was the handsomest boy you’d ever seen, but the sadness rimming his defeated eyes made him almost unrecognizable.

            You loved him so goddamn much that you hated yourself for needing to forgive him. Classic Steve Harrington. He was going to get his way. He was going to melt your resolve.

            He caught the softness in your expression and while his heart put itself back together, he finally saw his selfishness clearly. He didn’t deserve your forgiveness yet. He stood, bringing you with him, running his hands up your arms, and he kissed you softly, taking a step back. “You should get some sleep.”

            “Where are you going?” you asked, surprised to find him backing away.

            “To give you space,” his smile was sad, but in that moment he finally grew up. “Come, get that cute little ass back to bed.”

            You crawled back onto your mattress and he tucked you in, leaving a kiss on your nose. “I’ll let you be, okay? You just promise me you’ll get some rest.”

            You grabbed his shirt and yanked him down on the bed. He his the mattress with a sharp exhale and he stared at you. “Don’t leave,” you whispered.

            “I should,” he admitted, rolling onto his side to face you.

            “You should, but I want you to stay. I want you to know that you’re good enough to stay. That I love you enough that you should stay.” You moved against him and he brought a hand to your face, gently petting your cheek with his thumb.

            “I’m going to be good enough for you, I promise.” You knew he meant it.

            “You already are, Steve. Will you promise me you’ll believe it instead?”

            His smile met his eyes and his self-doubt finally faded away. “I’m good enough for you and I love you enough to believe it.”

            You spent the afternoon forgiving each other with your words, with your promises, and with your bodies.

            You loved him too much.

            And he loved you even more.


End file.
